Sunset at Saint-Cloud
by Lancelotlaureate
Summary: The Chevalier wants to take a walk around the gardens if only to take Philippe's mind off Versailles.


Raising a glass to his lips, Philippe tasted the wine, allowing the red liquid to caress his taste buds and slip gently down his throat. He always enjoyed wine when his brother wasn't there to leave a sour taste in his mouth.

Setting the glass down on the table, he glanced at the Chevalier who was placing a single grape in his mouth delicately, using his tongue to sample it before taking a small bite and nibbling suggestively, or what Philippe always imagined was suggestive anyway. The Chevalier and _suggestive_ seemed to work in harmony together.

"We should take a walk," the Chevalier said as he glanced out of the glass of the two large doors overlooking the gardens at Saint-Cloud.

"Outside again, twice in one day, are you feeling yourself?" Philippe said as his lip curled into a smirk.

"I find many things are improved by doing them twice in one day," he replied with a wink. "And honestly sometimes it's nice to feel the air upon one's cheeks. Besides I have grown rather fond of the outdoors of late."

"Prison will do that for you." Philippe gave a knowing look at him and the Chevalier smiled.

"Well, are we to go outside or stand here and continue to think of new ways in which your brother vexes you?"

"My brother will still vex me even if we're outside."

"Your brother is not outside so let's leave him in Versailles for now."

Philippe snorted and he scrunched his nose up with derision. "He is everywhere. Haven't you heard he's the guiding light in the centre of the universe?"

The Chevalier sighed and tried to stifle a yawn. They'd had this conversation two or three times since his return to France.

He approached Philippe and took his hand gently, pulling him lightly toward the doors. Philippe felt a sudden rush of excitement at the Chevalier's touch and beckoning.

"Alright, if it is what you wish."

The Chevalier snapped his fingers and within moments a servant was by his side. He motioned for the servant to remove their shoes and Philippe's eyebrow rose at the absurdity.

"We are to walk without our shoes?"

"Live in the moment, Philippe. Isn't that what we always strive for?"

The Chevalier opened the doors and they stepped out into the early evening air. Their matching shirts blew delicately in the gentle breeze. They stepped out together, hand in hand, taking slow steps until they eventually reached a row of hedgerows lined up in beautiful unison. Philippe looked at his love. The Chevalier's once tight and bouncy curls were now falling loosely upon his shirt and he looked relaxed, rugged, playful, untidy. Philippe often wished that others saw what he saw in him, not just the cowardly, irresponsible and frivolous man at court- but the brave, romantic, vulnerable, all rounded human he saw before him every night. The Chevalier made him feel alive, as though the world were a playground, as though anything were possible, as though he wasn't second to anyone and had the courage to shine and be noticed.

Philippe reached forward and pulled a twig which had become entangled in one of the curls of the Chevalier's hair. As he did so, his fingers brushed across his cheek and they looked deeply into each other's eyes.

"Oh, how I've missed those eyes," the Chevalier said with a deepened sigh. "Determined eyes. Eyes that don't want to give up."

Philippe smirked but tried not to give his love the satisfaction of being aware of it. "They do not say that."

The Chevalier smiled, widely, showing his teeth with a playful grin and that suggestive tongue that so often appeared. "What do _my_ eyes say?"

"They say you're consumed by madness and that you're drunk as a fox."

The Chevalier turned away, flicking his hair across his shoulder as he did so. "Of course, I cannot expect you to think of such things when your mind is so clearly preoccupied with Versailles and the beating heart of court life."

Philippe grabbed the Chevalier's throat and pushed him away. "You dare to mention that again?"

The Chevalier stumbled backwards a pace and then straightened himself up, puffing his chest out and placing his hair behind his shoulders. "I dare to mention it because you were thinking it and I know exactly what you're thinking, Mignonette."

They stared at one another in silence for several moments, breathing heavily, unsure of whether they were angry and full of rage or simply filled with fiery passion. They each not dared to be the first to move and reveal which they were.

Finally, Philippe relented and touched the Chevalier's cheek. "My dear sweet Chevalier, maybe my mind does drift to that place. But I'm not sure it's because I want to go back there."

"Yet it calls for you." The Chevalier lightly ran his fingers up Philippe's arm until his fingers reached the nape of his neck. Philippe closed his eyes and took in the sensation. He enjoyed it and he wanted him. He always wanted him.

When he opened his eyes, Philippe glanced upward to the sky as it was bathed in an orange hue. "The sun is setting."

The Chevalier looked away from Philippe and he gazed upward, suddenly comprehending that there was a sight to behold other than his love.

Philippe saw the colours reflecting in the Chevalier's eyes.

"The day is ending, my love," said the Chevalier, almost whispering. "But the night is beginning. Your time, Philippe, your time."


End file.
